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Nymphadora Tonks woke up with a jolt, her body snapping upright as though struck by lightning. Her heart was hammering so hard it felt like it might burst out of her chest, and for a moment, she didn't know where she was. The nightmare clung to her, vivid and burning, searing the back of her mind like a brand. She gasped for air, her sheets damp and tangled around her legs, sticking to her sweat-slicked skin.
The room was dark, silent except for the ragged sound of her breathing. Her hair flickered through a kaleidoscope of colors, a chaotic display of her turmoil: neon blue, stark white, fiery red. Her body trembled with a tension she couldn't explain, and her skin felt like it was on fire.
"What the bloody hell?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking. Her hand flew to her chest, as if she could still feel the phantom pressure of… No. She wouldn't even think about it.
But the dream wouldn't let go. It had been too real. The green eyes blazing with intensity, the predatory focus that pinned her in place, the way his voice—low and commanding—wrapped around her like chains she couldn't break. Harry Potter. Except not the Harry she knew. This Harry had been something else entirely.
Her breath hitched as fragments of the dream flooded back: his presence overwhelming, suffocating, yet… intoxicating. Her cheeks burned as shame and something far darker warred within her. How had she… why had she…
"What's wrong, Tonks? Not happy to see me?"
"Potter! Please — Please leave! Please —"
"Shhhh!"
His hands reach down and cup her arse cheeks and pull her close. She grabs onto his muscles as her pussy leaks between her legs —
"Now, are you going to say no to my cock again?"
"No… M-master."
"Good slut." He yanks her hair tighter. "Get down on your knees. Lift your arse. Beg for my cock."
"No," she muttered, shaking her head fiercely, her hair flaring a deep, angry crimson as the dream…no, the nightmare threatened to overwhelm her. 'It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a —"
But the thought whispered at the edge of her mind. What if it wasn't?
Her fists clenched in the damp sheets. She had cum, and quite a lot. Just like in the dream. What was this about? Had she underestimated him? Had she been blind to just how much control he truly had?
Her stomach churned as guilt twisted through her. Did he know? Did he know what she'd done, how she'd shared pieces of his secrets with Dumbledore? What if this was his revenge?
She knew very little about how Harry's incubus powers worked, but she was certain she had never quite experienced it in person before. She — her other persona — had never slept with him, never let him touch her sensually. Nothing. Even at the party, she hadn't sensed his allure at all.
So how? Why? Why had she had this dream? Was this the side-effect of drinking Felix Felicis? Was she already under his allure?
Her legs swung over the edge of the bed, shaky beneath her weight. The floor felt cold against her bare feet as she stumbled toward the bathroom, every step haunted by the memory of that dream—his hands, his voice, the way he…
"It's just stress," she muttered, her voice trembling as she tried to force the thought away. "Just the effect of the curse. All of this just got into my head. That's all. Stress."
The bathroom mirror greeted her with a reflection she barely recognized. Her hair had shifted to a pale, trembling silver, and her face was flushed, her wide eyes brimming with something she refused to name. But it wasn't her face that stopped her breath. For the briefest, most horrifying moment, the eyes staring back at her weren't hers at all. They were green. Bright, searing, and filled with a predatory hunger that made her blood run cold.
"No," she whispered, stumbling back and clutching the sink to keep from falling. "No, no, no. That's not…"
The image vanished, replaced by her own shaken reflection, but the damage was done. Her thoughts spiraled, racing through every possibility. Had he reached into her dreams? Was her guilt a beacon for his powers? Or worse… had he done it deliberately? Was he in her head, playing with her, torturing her for her betrayal?
And then she felt it. A deep, aching heat that pooled low in her belly, undeniable and mortifying. Her thighs clenched together instinctively, and she bit back a groan as shame and anger flared within her. How could her body betray her like this? How could she feel this way after such a nightmare?
"Get a grip, Tonks," she hissed through gritted teeth, her hands gripping the edges of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. "You're an Unspeakable. You've faced Death Eaters without flinching. You're not going to let a bloody dream undo you."
But even as she splashed cold water over her face, trying desperately to cool the flush in her cheeks and the fire under her skin, she couldn't shake the memory of him. The way he'd looked at her. The way he'd felt. The way her own body had responded.
"Bloody Potter," she muttered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration as she stared at her dripping reflection. "What the hell are you doing to me?"
The ever-unfolding web of Lecherous Shrine reached past the limitations of distance, magic, wards and other barriers, deep into the psyches of each and every individual that had fallen into my allure. It spread, and at its core, was Oneiros Spindle.
My senses were expanding along with the Shrine's reach, which was growing far more quickly than even I had estimated. Amplified by the initial sacrifice of Meta-Luck, only to be augmented by another twenty units from the newest addition to my Lilims, Oneiros Spindle had already pierced past the boundaries of Wizarding Britain, overpowering the magical and mystical boundaries, bypassing Occlumency and wards and everything that witches and wizards thought provided them with security against the unknown. It would enter the thralls, stretching its tendrils outward, seeking more and more thralls to tap into, make them dream, and if they were awake, then to raise emotions most conducive to feeling extreme pleasure.
I would hold their hands, their skin, their breasts, their pussy and arses… and give them all a little squeeze. Making it…
Pleasurable.
And with it, came the confirmation of what I had wanted all along.
You have successfully completed the Quest — ALL OR NOTHING
Every thrall, every touch, every craving—fulfilled simultaneously. Miss a beat, and it all falls apart. Fail, and the shrine crumbles.
DETAIL
Embrace your Role as the Incubus Lord. Every single thrall, every Lilim, every orgasm forged — satisfy them all in perfect harmony.
Enjoy your rewards…
I watched in a mix of glee and surprise as the Screen unfolded before my eyes.
Indomitable Lust has been deactivated.
Lecherous Shrine has been successfully activated.
You have won 100 Meta-Luck Points.
A disorienting and exhilarating surge of power shook me. The rush was intoxicating; I felt invincible, empowered by a deep, pulsing magic that seemed to flood through my veins, enhancing my presence and the impact I had on others.
Confusion set in almost immediately. I was unaccustomed to the breadth of influence I suddenly wielded. Watching people's attitudes shift, their barriers drop, and their emotions sway with my slightest whim left me amazed and somewhat bewildered. It was as if I had spoken a secret word that unlocked a hidden door to everyone's inner thoughts and feelings.
Maybe if I were more composed, I'd have registered that acute sense of isolation, as if those I could were responding not to me, but to the aura I was projecting. As if a glass wall had been erected between me and the rest of the world. I was separated by the very power that connected me so closely to others.
But I wasn't paying attention. I wanted more.
Maybe it would eventually lead to my doom, or maybe, this would truly turn me into a God. I didn't know. Except for one thing.
I wanted more.
More.
MORE.
Fleur Delacour woke with a start, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as her body trembled with the aftershocks of the dream. Her golden hair clung to her damp skin, and the silk sheets beneath her were crumpled and wet. The room was still dark, faint moonlight spilling through the lace curtains, but it did nothing to calm the heat coursing through her. She sat up abruptly, her hands gripping the sheets as if to anchor herself.
"Mon Dieu," she whispered, her voice a soft, breathless murmur that trembled at the edges. Her heart was racing, her mind swimming in a haze of vivid images that refused to fade. She pressed a hand to her forehead, but it did little to cool the warmth there.
The dream had been so real. Too real. The heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the way his hands had moved over her skin with a confidence that left her breathless. Harry Potter. Again. Always Harry.
She closed her eyes, but that was a mistake. The images returned, sharper than before. His mouth on hers, his voice low and rough in her ear, speaking words she didn't even need to understand to feel their power. Her breath hitched, and she cursed softly in French, shaking her head as though it could dislodge the memories.
"Ce n'est pas possible," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor, and she let out a shaky exhale, trying to steady herself. "This is ridiculous. This is… out of control."
She stood, wrapping her arms around herself as she paced the room, her silk nightgown clinging to her like a second skin. Her reflection caught her eye in the tall mirror by the dresser, and she froze. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as though she'd just been kissed, her eyes wide and shimmering with something she refused to name. She looked… ravished.
"Non," she whispered sharply, glaring at her reflection as if it were to blame. "C'est lui. It is him."
Meeting Harry Potter had been a life-changing experience. From the awe at finding an incubus, one that dwarfed her allure, to his twisted, pungent magic that somehow simultaneously resided in his body, to his skill with a wand and his ulterior motives and the debt he held over her and her father— Harry Potter was a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
And then there had been that moment in that loo when they —
Her breath caught again, and she pressed a hand to her chest, willing her racing heart to slow. She couldn't keep doing this. These dreams, these… thoughts. They weren't normal. They weren't her.
Fleur turned away from the mirror, moving to the window to let the cool night air wash over her. But even as the breeze kissed her skin, it couldn't erase the fire lingering beneath. Her body still hummed with the echoes of the dream, with the memory of his hands, his voice, his everything. It was as if he were still there, a ghost of desire that refused to leave.
"You have no right," she muttered under her breath, her fingers curling into the windowsill. "No right to… to haunt me like this."
But even as she said it, she knew the truth. Harry Potter didn't need to haunt her. He lived in her thoughts, a permanent fixture she couldn't shake. She closed her eyes again, leaning her forehead against the cool glass, and let out a soft, shaky sigh.
"This cannot continue," she said softly, her voice laced with determination. "I will not let it."
But deep down, a part of her knew it was a lie. Harry was already under her skin, in her dreams, in her soul. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, there was no escaping him. Not now. Not ever.
"Ugh! Ugh! Yes! Yes! YES!"
Molly Weasley was spread-eagled on the bed, her thighs extended to either side in a straight line. Her perky breasts sported nipples that were rock-hard and her face was radiating bliss. Her eyes were closed, an expression of pained ecstasy on her face, her hands gripping the sheets and her breasts swaying with every forceful thrust.
"More! More! More!"
"Mmm Molly...gorgeous..." Arthur groaned in a whisper, against her neck.
"Huh?" Was all Molly managed to let out, barely registering his words. Her eyes were half open as he leaned back up to take another look at her face. He could stare at her all day.
"You're so beautiful Moll-"
"I'm close...so shut up and fuck me." She demanded before pulling him in for another hot and heavy pash. Arthur followed her orders instantly, grabbing her thigh with one hand and pounding into her as hard as he could. It was a difficult task, what with his tiny penis slobbering endlessly in her ever-sinking pussy. No matter how much effort he put in, or how many vials of pepper-up he drank before the deed, Molly's pussy kept drawing him more and more inside, until he was practically lost, unable to push for more, unable to properly fuck her, unable to please or push her into orgasm.
Or at least, that was what the normal days were like.
Today was different.
Today, his wife was spasming in ecstasy.
He could feel her body start to tremble beneath him as she neared her climax and knew just what would get her going. His lips moved back down to her neck, peppering it with kisses before suddenly clamping down on it with his teeth.
"I'M CUMMING!" Molly's walls erratically clenched around the thick cock inside of her as the orgasm hit her like a hurricane. She squirmed uncontrollably against his body with her eyes closed. Her juices washed over his cock completely, as well as both of their thighs and the bedsheets. She squirted the hardest she had that night, with the final juices dripping from her slit as she calmed down.
Arthur smiled down at her exhausted face. She was gorgeous. It looked like she might have had enough for the night. Arthur had wanted to leave the task way earlier, but he had kept on going despite shooting blanks, since she hadn't finished.
"Moll —"
"Shh." Molly cut him off again, placing a finger on his mouth. "You talk too much, just be quiet okay." Molly stroked the side of his face with a small smile. "It's much better that way."
Any other man would have probably taken offence at that, but Arthur had always been a timid man, both in and out of bed. When he had first met Molly at Hogwarts, she was the daughter of the illustrious Prewitt family, and destined to be something huge. She had the looks, the skills to go into Auror training, and the body to drool about. She had her string of boyfriends, all of which were better than Arthur in every way. To this date, he didn't know what she saw in him,
And then, that one night happened.
The night where he had been utterly terrified about losing her to Angus Prince.
The night where Molly had attempted to calm his disconsolate self by sleeping with him.
The night where he had lied about using a contraceptive charm, and gotten her pregnant with Bill. It had been an awful thing to do, and in the end, nothing good had come out of this. He had been a faithful man, raised seven children, one of which was a daughter, and did his best to support his family in every way possible. He had spent more than two decades in a marriage that was based on this lie, and even though it had its good points, this marriage definitely missed out on that special something.
It didn't help that Molly kept reminding him of his tiny penis every time they did the deed.
In all their encounters post marriage, he had never quite managed to build up a resistance to her. Even with her buxom figure with those large melons-for-breasts and that massive arse weren't enough for him to hold himself back for long while drilling inside her. And the best parts had been when she used to tease him about the size of his pecker while having sex. It turned him on and he finished faster when she humiliated and belittled him and bossed him around.
Quite naturally, he was more than surprised when he suddenly found his wife screaming for more, as he fucked her from behind.
"Yes...Harder. Harder!" Molly moaned underneath him as he thrusted into her roughly. He couldn't believe it. After all these years, he was finally making her moan. He couldn't count the number of times he had pictured them in this exact position with Molly truly moaning from being fucked, and now that it was happening, it was better than he could have ever imagined.
The sight alone was intoxicating. Molly's eyes were closed tightly, an expression of pained ecstasy on her face as her red hair was splayed behind her. Her hands gripped the sheets of the bed and her breasts swayed with each forceful thrust from her lover. He would have preferred to rest for a while, or better, take another pepper-up, but seeing her moan, he was more than happy to try a little more. Besides, she felt so amazing this way. Her walls clenched tightly around him with each pass, eliciting heavy groans out of his mouth.
Yes! Thought Arthur. After twenty-eight years of marriage, he was finally getting past that blank, smiling, indulgent face that just wanted him to get over with so that she could go back to fingering herself. Which was weird for two reasons: first, because Molly preferred her finger over his cock, and second, because the woman literally got off on being pregnant. Something about the joys of orgasming while having a baby inside her.
His palm trailed from her waist to her breast, taking in the sensation of her tasty skin. He squeezed the supple orb firmly, noting the added pleasure that he could see on Molly's face. His other hand moved up to her cheek as he leaned down and started kissing along her neck, desperate to taste more of her. Somehow even the sweat along her skin was delicious to him. Her moans grew louder, echoing inside of his ear. God, they were beautiful. She sounded just as amazing as she looked.
If only things were as he expected.
"I want you to take me from behind." Molly said, the smile fading from her face. "Hard."
Through her half open eyes Molly was able to see the dark silhouette of Harry Potter hovering above her. She knew he wasn't there, that it was Arthur, but it was so easy to pretend otherwise. Never before had her emotions far outweighed whatever guilt that she felt.
"Okay." Arthur said simply, moving back to give Molly some space. Dammit, he ruined it again!
The fantasy that it was Harry Potter giving her the pleasure and attention that she so desperately craved from him.
Her husband didn't know this, but she had cast charms on Penelope's room, not trusting her to try her hand at her dear Percy again. When Percy had come to her room late at night, Molly had instantly been warned, and she had been ready to stride up to the girl's room and tell her off. Imagine her surprise when Pbercy had left after criticizing the girl's life choices, only for Harry Potter to enter and…
And….
"Clasp your hands together, and don't let go. Understand?"
"Ye— yessir."
Even thinking about that domineering tone sent shivers down her spine. She remembered tiptoeing her way to Penelope's room under silencing charms, and watching through the tiny creek in the wall, watching that monster of a cock, its tip glistening with precum, ready to bury itself in that silly girl's snatch. She had watched as Penelope screamed, that thick, powerful cock reshaping her innards, holding her hands behind her neck, as he fucked her like an animal from behind.
She remembered his words.
"In my world, pain is pleasure."
Oh, how Molly had orgasmed at that tone. The knowledge that the voice belonged to little Ronnie's best friend, the boy she had practically thought of as a son for this long only made it spicier.
"Suffering is sweet."
"Ugh! More!"
"I use you as I please. I give you pain when it pleases me, and pleasure when you deserve it. Do you understand that, slave?"
"YES!"
SMACK!
"YES! YES! I UNDERSTAND!"
SMACK!
"YES! I UNDERSTAND! I UNDERSTAND MASTER!"
Moaning, Molly turned around and got into place on her hands and knees. It made it so much easier to pretend that it was Harry taking her from behind. Yes, she was using Arthur. No, he didn't know that this is what she thought about when they made love. Molly knew that her idea of love making was very loose in this area. With Arthur, it was just pointless lovemaking with the occasional fingering. Nothing more and nothing less. But as she pictured Harry...
It was becoming so much more than that.
With Harry it was the most intense and passionate love making ever. She gripped the sheets as she felt the familiar feeling of her walls being stretched out. Harry was right back where he belonged and it felt amazing. His cock pushed and pulled out of her slowly, the sensations dragging on inside of her.
"Molly you-"
"Shut up!" She snapped in a husky breath. Damn Arthur, ruining it again. "I said hard. Shut up and fuck me faster." All she wanted was Harry and if she had to use her husband to get him then so be it. Did that make her a slut? A whore? If it did then fine. If it was for Harry's cock she would happily be his slut. His whore. She would be anything for him.
She knew it was worth it when the delightful pain of thighs rapidly slapping against her arse returned. Her body was rocked as she was fucked mercilessly by the powerful figure behind her. Her cunt was on fire, burning from the friction and force put against it. The large cock hit her cervix on every pass only adding to the electrifying pain.
"Yes! Harder!" Molly cried. She wanted more. One of her hands reached underneath her and rubbed her clit vigorously as she continued to get pounded. She could see it now. Harry towering over her from behind, impaling her with his length as hard as he could. His fingers were digging into her hips so hard, they were sure to leave bruises when they were done. Good. Molly deserved them. This was exactly what Molly wanted. What she needed. Harry owned her, in mind and body. She was his.
"I-I-I'm gonna..." Molly could barely speak anymore, so overwhelmed by Harry's power. Her vision turned blurry and she closed her eyes tightly, feeling the tears in them. "You're so...I...cum...I'm cumming...I'm cumming!"
Her back arched as the ecstasy took her over once again. She squirted hard, drenching the bed sheets in even more liquid and giving her own thighs another coat of her cum, along with her lover's. Her toes curled and legs shook while her high washed over her, ending in her collapsing on the bed, feeling a sudden emptiness in her tingling sex. Molly barely registered the hot cum that was coating her ass and lower back as she panted heavily, a dull groan accompanying each streak.
Soon her lover lay next to her, a strong arm wrapped around her own and holding her close. She felt so warm. There were heavy yet controlled breaths against the back of her neck, matching her own.
"Did you enjoy it, darling?"
"Yes! I love your cock, Harry.'
It was barely a whisper but she realised her mistake the moment that she made it. The warmth of the strong arm disappeared in an instant. She didn't want to but Molly turned around to meet exactly what she had been fearing. Despite the darkness of the room, she could still see the shock on her husband's face. "Arthur, I-"
"...Harry?" It came out of his lips in a whisper. "Was it… did you, all this time…."
Molly pushed herself up, knowing what he meant. She couldn't bring herself to lie to him. No matter how sorry she looked, it wouldn't change a thing.
Slowly, silently, she nodded.
Arthur sighed, and pushed himself off the bed. "What are we going to do about it? It isn't like we can ask him to leave Hogwarts every evening to come fuck you at night, can we? I mean, I anticipated something was going on when you kept moaning his name in your sleep, but this is serious, Molly. Especially when he can make you cum like this."
Molly blinked.
Far away, enveloped inside Lecherous Shrine, the Incubus Lord smiled.